


let the chips fall where they may

by Duck_Life



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s07e25-26 All Good Things..., F/M, Friendship/Love, Future Fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Moving On, Time Skips, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duck_Life/pseuds/Duck_Life
Summary: How did everyone get to where they were in the possible future Picard witnessed? What happened to Deanna? How did Geordi and Leah go from awkward acquaintances to husband and wife? And how is Data handling the emotions he's experiencing?
Relationships: Data/Geordi La Forge, Deanna Troi/Worf, Geordi La Forge & Leah Brahms, William Riker & Worf
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	1. you think you have all the time in the world

They're back on Earth so the  _ Enterprise  _ can undergo some much-needed repairs after their most recent scrape with the Borg. Geordi occasionally visits his sister in Portland, but he spends most of his time onboard, supervising the repairs. 

A familiar figure surprises him while he’s crawling along the power conduits. It makes sense that she might be just as concerned about the state of the ship as he is. “La Forge."

"Brahms," he says back, teasing a little. "Good to see you again."

"What the hell did you do to my ship?" Leah Brahms sighs, gesturing emphatically with her tricorder at the damage done to the conduits around them. 

" _ My  _ ship," Geordi reminds her. "And don't worry. We brought her home in one piece."

"Looks like you put the  _ Enterprise  _ through a giant cosmic cheese grater," she berates him. "What ever happened to 'treat her like a lady'?"

Geordi sits back on his knees. "I've always found that men who say that usually have no idea  _ how  _ to treat a lady," he points out. "But then, who am I to talk?"

"The chief engineer," Leah says, crawling along the conduit and examining every centimeter of damage. "You're the one who's supposed to keep the ship safe."

"I'm supposed to keep the  _ crew _ safe," he corrects, hurrying to catch up with her. She abruptly changes directions, and he follows her, shuffling along on hands and knees. "Besides. The  _ Enterprise _ isn't some delicate flower," Geordi says. "She's built like a brick shithouse. And we have you to thank for that."

There are other engineers— Geordi thinks, suddenly, of Captain Scott— who might balk at that description. Leah looks delighted as she lowers her tricorder and turns to gaze at him. It's that similar wavelength they share, the commonality that made it possible for them to become friends even after Geordi made a complete ass of himself back on the holodeck. That connection between them that seems to echo,  _ Oh, you get it. _

"You're welcome for doing my job," Leah jibes, continuing her survey of the damage. Geordi continues to follow her. They check over the parts of the power transfer conduit that seem salvageable, making notes of the parts that need repairs and the parts that need to be completely replaced. 

Finally, Leah crawls back out of the conduit and Geordi clambers after her. “It’s banged up pretty bad in there,” Leah sighs, leaning back against a bulkhead. “But fixable.”

“Everything’s fixable,” Geordi says easily. Then he says, "Alright. Enough nuts and bolts talk. Hey, how's Michael?" Leah immediately pales. Her bright, assertive manner melts away like she’s been doused in cold water. 

"Oh… I thought you knew," she murmurs, and it's such a mirror of their misunderstanding years ago that it's almost funny. Almost. "He, um. He died a few months ago. An away mission went poorly, and Michael, he, ah, didn't make it."

Geordi's face creases with concern and sympathy. "Leah… I'm so sorry."

"It's, um. It's alright— well, no, no, it's not alright," she says, staring up at the ceiling, trying to blink back tears. 

"I had no idea," Geordi goes on. "I can't imagine how you're feeling right now. If you need anything—"

"It's…" she sniffs, and then abruptly she grabs him by the elbow and tugs him into the nearest turbolift. The computer chimes, awaiting a direction. "Just stay here, just don't go anywhere, please," Leah says, far from the crisp but affectionate tone she normally uses with the ship's computer. She shudders, a few tears sliding down her face. "Damn you, Geordi La Forge."

"What did I do?"

"Nothing. Nothing. You didn't do anything," she sighs. "It's just you looked so sad and I… I think it's just been awhile since I talked about Mike with somebody who didn't work with me or work for me. I've been trying to stay professional all the time, and…"

"And I'm never professional," Geordi says lightly. 

"That's not what I—"

"I'm kidding," Geordi says softly. "It's okay."

"I keep doing…  _ this _ at the Institute," she admits, gesturing to the shut turbolift doors. "I think my students are beginning to think there's something wrong with the lift components." She sniffs again. "They can't see me like this."

"Leah, you're grieving," Geordi says. "It's okay to cry."

"For you, maybe," she says. "No one can see the— " She cuts herself off. Geordi doesn't say anything. "That was cruel. I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," Geordi says. "Like I said— you're grieving. There's no one who wouldn't understand that." 

His combadge beeps. "Data to La Forge."

Geordi smiles a little. "Well, maybe one person." He taps his badge. "La Forge here."

"Geordi, is something wrong with the turbolift? It appears you are stuck on deck 10."

Geordi looks at Leah. She takes a deep breath and then gives him a thumbs-up. "No," Geordi assures Data. "Everything's fine."

  
  
  
  


“Well, what’s it like?” Counselor Troi asks, smiling over the top of her PADD. “You’ve had your emotion chip installed for two weeks now. How are you feeling?”

Data tilts his head. “Can you not tell?” 

She sighs. “Well, yes, Data, I can read you empathically, but I still want to hear in your own words. This is something you’ve wanted for a long time. Is it what you expected?” 

Data considers that for a moment, letting the question work its way through his various processes and subprocesses, evaluating the different emotional states he’s experienced since repairing, installing and activating his chip. “It is… interesting,” he says. “I thought that experiencing emotions might help me understand humanity more. Instead, it has only raised more questions.”

“Really?” she asks, leaning forward. “Such as?” 

“Recently, Geordi and I were playing an ancient Earth game known as ‘Monopoly,’” Data says. “Geordi won. I was happy to be spending time with Geordi, but I became…  _ enraged _ when he beat me. How could I feel both these emotions, and so strongly?” 

Deanna nods understandingly. “Monopoly has that effect,” she says. “That’s why it was banned on several starbases. As for your emotions… the more you experience and develop your feelings, the more complex they will become. It’s just like learning, oh, the components that make up a warp core, or the steps in a dance. It starts simple and becomes more complex as you get further in your learning.” 

“Complex emotions,” he says, considering the idea. 

“Sad and happy are simple, but the more you learn, the more you realize can fit into them,” Deanna continues. “There are different ways to feel sad— you might feel melancholy, or nostalgic, grief-stricken, shameful. There are also different ways to feel happy— proud, vindicated, relieved. You get what I’m saying?”

“So my reaction when Geordi beat me at Monopoly,” Data says, “means…”

“That you’re a sore loser,” Deanna says. “But we’ve known that since long before you got the chip, Data.” 

Data studies her face, puzzled, and then he looks down at his own chest as if he can physically see the emotion emanating out of him. “What am I feeling?”

“You tell me.” 

“You are… making fun of me,” Data says slowly. “But in a friendly manner. With no ill will. I feel some embarrassment… but also, affection.” 

“That’s generally the feeling that good-natured ribbing between friends evokes in people,” Deanna says. 

“Complex emotions,” Data says again, nodding. 

  
  
  
  
  


_ Acting Captain’s Log, stardate 52082. Captain Picard and Commander Riker remain trapped on the surface of Rigus 3. We are still attempting to understand the capabilities of the telepathic entity that threatens the captain and Commander Riker as well as the entirety of the Enterprise.  _

“Recommend we send a shuttle and a security team down to the planet’s surface to rescue Captain Picard and Riker,” Worf says, looking up and down the conference table. Counselor Troi sits beside him, her brow knitted in concentration. This telepathic entity is affecting her in a way it has yet to affect the rest of the senior staff. 

“The entity would just seize control of the security team,” Dr. Crusher argues. “Then it would have more crewman, plus a shuttlecraft.” 

“Maybe we can figure out if this thing has a weakness,” Geordi suggests. “A frequency, a particular wavelength… if we can just figure out what we need to fight it then—”

“Me,” Troi says quietly. Everyone looks at her. “The entity is telepathic in nature… as am I,” she explains. “But where it relies on reason and logic, my abilities are more closely related to empathy and emotion.”

“What are you saying?” Geordi asks. 

“I’m saying I can fight back,” Troi says, “but I would have to let it into my mind first.”

“Out of the question,” Worf says immediately. 

“Lieutenant Commander Worf,” Data says sternly, “let the counselor explain.” 

Troi nods appreciatively, looking suddenly overwhelmed. “My mother’s always telling me to hone my telepathic abilities. This is as good a chance as any.” Her light remark is met by grave stares. “Look. I love everyone in this room. Everyone on this ship, as well as the captain and Commander… and Will. If there is something I can do to protect all of you, I'm going to do it. Regardless of the personal risk. As a Betazoid, I can connect with the entity on a telepathic level—”

Worf interrupts again. “Deanna— Counselor, you are only half Betazoid.” 

“If you see another solution, please share it,” Deanna says. He doesn’t. Nobody does. 

Data nods. “We will proceed with Counselor Troi's plan.”

Later, in the corridor, Worf pulls Deanna aside to talk to her one-on-one. “It was not my intention to undermine you,” Worf says. “I just— I feel—”

“I know.” She tilts upward and kisses him, pouring her faith and courage and everything she is into the kiss. “But what I need now isn't your protection; it's your support,” she says. “And your respect.”

“You have it,” Worf says. “Always.” 

  
  
  


The plan is set. Troi will allow the entity access to her mind so that she can meet it on the astral plane, a telepathic No Man’s Land. She’ll subdue and trap him that way. Worf squeezes her hand once before taking his station at tactical. 

Deanna stands with her feet shoulder-width apart, balanced and steady, almost as if she’s preparing to practice calisthenics rather than face down a vicious energy being. She spares one look back at Worf, nods to Data and lowers her mental shields. 

The onslaught is immediate and almost overwhelming— almost. The entity floods her mind right away, all that power, that vast emptiness. She pushes back, reminds herself who she is— Deanna Troi of Betazed, a Starfleet officer. She does not let the entity take control of her. She pushes back against its enormity, asserts herself, stands her ground. 

Even so, her whole body trembles. “It's too much!” Worf insists. 

“Counselor, report.” That’s Data, ever calm, ever careful. 

“We're… we're so small to him,” Deanna says, peering into the depths of the creature trying to control her and her crew. “My God, we're like ants. This isn't rage or hatred… it's apathy.” And still she pushes back, fights with everything in her. The entity is a presence— but also, in a way, a vacuum. A vacuum she fills with every last bit of Betazoid in her, every human part of her, too. “Data,” she says, “I think I’ve got it.” She fills the emptiness with all she has— her love for her friends, her pride in this ship and its mission, her heritage, her grief, her strength. With everything in her, she pushes back. 

And finally, she feels the entity relent. 

A trickle of blood escapes her nose. A moment later, Deanna Troi collapses. Lieutenant Gates is the first to reach her side, checking her pulse and pressing a hand to her chest. She presses her combadge with shaking fingers. "Gates to Dr. Crusher. We need you on the bridge, now."

  
  


On the planet’s surface, Will Riker feels the pressure from the telepathic entity lift, feels his own will and thoughts returned to him. In the same instant, something breaks in his mind. A link is severed, brutal and abrupt, and before he realizes what he’s doing he’s on his knees, howling with grief. 

“Number One,” Picard says, sinking down to crouch beside him. “Will, what’s… ?”

Through the sobs wracking his body, Riker manages to eke out the word, “Imzadi.” 

  
  
  
  


Beverly runs her hands through her hair, leaving it even messier than before. Her face is paler than normal, except for the hectic red patches high on her cheekbones. Her eyes are red and swollen. "The mental strain was too mu-much," she reports, wondering if the computer can edit out the tremble in her voice. "Counselor Deanna Troi, commander rank, was…" She takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Was pronounced dead at 1600 hours."


	2. a page from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deanna's funeral, the schism between Riker and Worf and the rise and fall of Data and Geordi's sad little love story.

It's not as if Data needs any assistance making sure his dress uniform is on correctly and his hair is straight. It's just that Wesley is unable to attend the funeral, and in his absence Beverly seems to have turned all her maternal instincts toward the android.

That, and he can't stop crying. "I cannot do this," Data sobs, tilting against the doctor. "I cannot."

"It's going to be okay," Beverly says. "Tell me what you need."

He needs Deanna. He needs his friend, his confidant, his counselor. "... Geordi. I need Geordi."

"Okay, I'll get him."

  
  


When Geordi arrives at Data's quarters, Data immediately asks him for help switching off his emotion chip. "I didn't think that was possible," Beverly remarks.

"We've been working on some ideas, some schematics," Geordi says. "But I didn't think we were ready to…"

"Please," Data says. "Please, I… I should be there, at her funeral. But I cannot appear in this state."

Geordi gives him a sympathetic look. "Everybody's going to be crying, Data—"

"I was in command when she died," he says. "I cannot stand at her grave crying like a child."

"She wouldn't have wanted you to hide from this, Data," Beverly says. 

He fixes her with a watery stare. "Today should be about her. Not about my emotions.  _ Please _ help me turn them off."

  
  
  


Lwaxana Troi has never appeared so solemn and somber. She clings to Riker's arm while another Betazoid leads Deanna's friends through the traditional funeral chants. 

After they've laid Deanna's body in the ground, Riker reaches out a hand to Worf. "Worf—"

Worf says nothing and walks away. 

  
  


After the funeral, Geordi asks Data if he is going to reactivate his emotion chip.

Data says no and walks away. 

  
  


Picard gazes out the window of Ten-Forward, watching the stars zoom past. Guinan stands beside him, ready to listen, ready to talk, ready to just stand there in mutual silence. Finally, Picard says, “It’s like Jack all over again. I didn’t think it would be, but it is.” He sighs. “She was my best friend, Guinan.” 

  
  


"Data, talk to me."

"We are conversing right now."

"Talk to me for real.  _ Please _ ."

"Geordi, I do not understand why you remain unsatisfied with my emotionless state," Data says. "For the first seven years of our friendship, I did not have emotions."

"And for the first seven years of my life, I couldn't see," Geordi counters. "But I can now. And… and I can't just rip out my cybernetic implants because I don't  _ like  _ what I see."

"It is my decision how I react to grief."

"You  _ aren't  _ reacting," Geordi says. "It's okay to be sad."

"I have the option not to be. I have chosen that option."

"Which means that I'm alone in it." 

  
  
  


After Troi’s death, Riker seems to have gotten over his aversion to being promoted. The next time they pull out the captain’s chair for him, he takes it, accepting the position on the Titan. Wesley Crusher is there at his going away party, and Captains Picard and Riker practically play a tug-of-war with him, both letting him know there’s a job for him on either ship if he wants it. 

Wesley declines, explaining that he’s not done with the Traveler gig. Maybe, he tells them, someday. Beverly is just happy to see him, to know that he’s intact and eating well. 

“That’s two of us,” Geordi says at one point, looking at the crowd gathered in Ten-Forward. Of course it’s different. It’s not as if Riker is dying, he’s just moving on. It’s not like losing Deanna. Still, it seems as if their little family is being picked apart piece by piece.

They lose Worf to Deep Space 9 that same year, and just like with Riker, Geordi is proud of him, happy for him, but sad, too. Sad that an era seems to be coming to a close. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I miss her so much,” Beverly says, staring up at the ceiling and willing herself not to cry. “I just… every time I try to think about what I’m going to be doing tomorrow, next week, next month… there’s a hole where Deanna should be.” 

“I know what you mean,” Jean-Luc says, wrapping an arm around her waist and tugging her closer. “It’s as if I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting her to be there.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Geordi is in Data's quarters. They're listening to a concert recorded 90 years ago, just enjoying each other's space, each other's company. Everything is fine, until it isn't. 

Data had been looking at Geordi's new eyes, the silvery cybernetics that provide him with an improved range of vision— that, among other benefits.

"It is good to be able to see your face more clearly," Data comments. "You are very handsome."

Geordi ducks his head. "Ah— thanks, Data. You're not so bad yourself."

Data looks back and focuses again on Geordi's eyes, his nose, his cheekbones. Then he abruptly stands up. "You should go."

"What?" Geordi splutters. 

"I think— that is— I believe one of my programs is activating erratically."

"Then let me help you with it."

"That is not necessary."

" _ Data _ ."

"You should go."

"What's wrong? Tell me what's going on?"

Data appears to deliberate for a moment. "My romance program has activated."

"The… the one you wrote for Jenna?"

"I disabled the program I wrote specifically for my relationship with Lieutenant D'Sora. I did, however, modify its code to make a more generic romance program should the opportunity come up again. It just activated."

Geordi watches him, thinking. "What is your romance program telling you to do?"

"It— I— I wanted to tell you that your face is a work of art."

"So tell me."

"Your face is a work of art, Geordi."

Geordi flushes, looking flustered. “What a line,” he murmurs, but it’s obviously working. 

  
  


It’s an easy slide from best friends to boyfriends. Geordi starts finding love poems waiting for him at his workspace. He and Data spends hours together on the holodeck, sometimes solving Holmesian mysteries, sometimes just lying on a beach, listening to Spanish guitar, talking about everything and nothing. 

  
  


Data does not reactivate his emotion chip. Concerned, Geordi brings it up at one point. "You told me yourself you felt your… your personal growth had stagnated."

"Standing still is better than going backward."

"And feeling nothing is better than feeling hurt?" Geordi asks. It’s not about him— he was best friends with Data for years before Data received the chip. He knows the android’s capacity for friendship— and for love— is not limited by a lack of emotions. 

But he also knows how much Data longed to experience emotion, how delighted he was to finally taste drinks and laugh at jokes and weep with joy. And now he isn’t letting himself feel any of it. 

"That… that is not…"

"That's exactly what you're saying, Data."

  
  
  
  


“The Titan is docking at the station tomorrow,” Sisko says. “I understand you and the captain are good friends. Do you want to be the one to greet—”

“I would rather not, sir,” Worf says. “Captain Riker and I are… not on good terms.” 

Sisko frowns. “I hope that won’t be a problem while he’s here.”

“It won’t be,” Worf promises. “I think it would be best for everyone if we were to just… stay out of each other’s way.” 

  
  
  


Geordi spends shore leave at the Zefram Cochrane Institute for Advanced Theoretical Physics, helping Leah modify some phase converters. "Leah…" he starts, and then he sighs and shakes his head. "Never mind."

"What?" she nudges.

"No, it's— it's stupid."

"I'm sure it wasn't. Stupid people don't get to come help out here," Leah says. 

Geordi sighs again. "It's… not appropriate."

She snorts. "You're the least appropriate person I've ever met."

She's got him, and he knows it. "Fine. I… I was going to ask for some relationship advice."

Leah looks like she finds this hilarious. "Wouldn't that be a little like the blind leading the blind? Pardon the expression."

"Hmph," Geordi says. "You've been married before."

"That is true. I did successfully maintain a lifelong relationship," Leah says. "Well. Lifelong for one of us." Every now and then, she dips into gallows humor. Her colleagues and friends here tend to laugh nervously and change the subject, but Geordi always takes it in stride. 

"Anyway," Geordi says, "with Michael… was there ever a time when he was… doing something unhealthy and you wanted him to stop? Or… or you knew he was holding himself back, personally and professionally, and… and you just wanted him to do right by himself?"

Leah purses her lips, deliberating, and then she sets down the screwdriver in her hand to turn her full attention to Geordi. "This is about Data?"

"Yeah," Geordi says glumly. “He’s left his emotion chip deactivated ever since Deanna died. I know he went a long time without it before, but… it’s different now.”

“Flowers for Algernon,” Leah says sagely. “You can’t go backwards.”

"Data doesn't let me get away with… with letting me be less than I am," Geordi says. "He pushes me to be better. I feel like I owe him the same."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“But why have you come to me?” Freud asks from behind his cluttered desk. “What about your friend, the cake?”

“Counselor Troi died,” Data says.

“Oh. My condolences,” says Freud. “So what is it you’re wondering about now?”

Data stares down at his fingernails. With a single twitch of his head, he could re-enable his emotion chip. He could start to feel again, if he wanted to. But he doesn’t want it. “I have elected not to use the emotion chip installed in my neural net,” Data says. “Up until recently, I have not regretted that decision. However…”

“Yes?”

“I am involved in a relationship of a… romantic nature,” Data explains to the hologram of Sigmund Freud. “There are times when I want to know what that feels like. When I want to feel for him what I know he feels for me.” 

“It sounds like you have a decision to make.”

“Geordi loves me with or without emotions,” Data says. This is a fact. He knows this. 

Freud nods. “And how does that make you feel?”

Data stares down at his fingernails. “It does not.” 

  
  


“Data, Deanna’s death was not the fault of your emotion chip,” Geordi says. 

“Perhaps not,” Data says. “What about the time that Lore manipulated me into torturing you? What about when I allowed fear to control my reactions when I was being interrogated by those Cardassians? Emotion has resulted in more negative than positive outcomes in my life. I am firm in my decision to continue living without it.” 

“Okay,” Geordi says. “Fine.”

“Being with you makes me less firm in that decision,” Data goes on. “I believe… I believe it is for the best if we terminated our romantic relationship.” 

Geordi stares at him, mouth agape. “You’re… ending it? Ending us?”

“I hope that we can still remain friends,” Data says, “but I understand if that is impossible.”

“It’s. We’re. Okay,” Geordi mumbles, backing up into the turbolift. “Fine, Data. Fine.” He lets the turbolift take him away to any deck, any deck at all, just away. 


End file.
